Free For All
by ChocoAndCigs
Summary: 101 MxM drabbles with one-word prompts.
1. Break

[[It's one of those word-drabble-prompt-things. I was surprisingly exited to start something like this. I went on lunaescence and found tons of cool one word challenges. So, this whole story will be short drabbles prompted from a single word.

I'll be doing mostly third person point of view, because I don't think I'm that good at it yet and am striving to practice to get better. Don't blame me for my babbles; it's almost midnight and I have to wake up at five. I just couldn't sleep without posting something. So, here it is. Enjoy!

Don't-own-eet! If I did, these drabbles would be made into mini Death Note episodes. That would be sweet. K thx, bai!]]

Prompt- Break

The scent of rain on pavement. Wisps of cloudy breathe puffing in front of goggled eyes. He was upset. He was confused and he was upset. Nothing was right; all of this was wrong. Wrong, wrong, _wrong_. His mind buzzed; heart raced, he put his head in his hands, hiccupped a dry sob. This was it. What sick, sadistic words to be thinking about your own life. Matt finally understood what was going to happen. Oh, Mello had been snaking his way out of the continuing questions Matt had been throwing around. "So what's the plan now?" Matt whispered into his gloved hands, "The plan." he whispered harshly. It already deemed destruction.

Only moments before had the blonde 'fessed up. This was what was going to happen. Death. The word, Matt thought, was much to average compared to the extent of pain it wrought. He would be there soon. Matt shivered at the chill nipping at all sides. He hadn't thought rationally. Realizing what Mello was saying to him-- "Matt, you said you would stay with me to the end."-- the blonde spoke with such dull eyes. Realization had struck. Until the end. The end, the end, the _end. _Matt had screamed at his love for being such an obsessed fool and stormed out of the less than cozy apartment, mind in a haze. Matt felt as if he would shatter. His insides felt as if there was a hurricane raging about. His whole frame was shaking, he was sure he was going to fall to pieces bit by bit. Images of his body parts falling off and crashing to the floor in fractured pieces like that of a porcelain doll swarmed into is head and the gamer squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.


	2. Eighteen

**[[Woo! So, I do believe it is the first time that I've ever posted something the day after posting something else. If that makes any sense…? This isn't in third person, although most of these drabbles will be. This is in Matt's point of view, just in case you couldn't tell. Oh, and PS. Yesterday night I was looking through my stories on fan fiction dot net and I noticed that a lot of my chapters are bolded or italicized throughout the entire chapter. Which I hate. I've tried fixing it, replacing the chapter, etc. etc. but it just won't go away. T^T Anyway, enjoy the latest mind-babble that is nearly as long as this authors note!**

**Don't-own-eet! If I did… I wouldn't have to think of these disclaimers, which are surprisingly difficult to think of sometimes. ): Any ideas for my disclaimers? Leave a review with your idea! K thx, bai!]]**

**Prompt- Eighteen**

**It meant about as much to me as every other pointless day. There was absolutely nothing memorable or interesting about it, no celebration, nobody even called to say, "Oh, congrats on becoming an official, legal 'adult'." Nothing of the sort. It was depressing, but it sort of pissed me off at the same time. Added fuel to the fire and all that. I hated him; I really did. How dare he leave; just like that? What a merciless coward. If I ever did see him again, I'm sure he'd get a nice, hard kick in the balls. If he even had any. I **_**was**_** mad; although the kids at Wammy's treated me like they had to walk on eggshells whenever I was around. As if one thing mentioned about Mello would set me off and make me kill myself or something. I was not upset or depressed in any way, shape, or form. I was **_**furious**_**. Extremely so. And that was all. **_**Just**_** angry. That's all.**

…**.I spent that night crying myself to sleep.**


	3. Lies

[[This is very, very sloppy. Just a pre-warning. I wrote the first paragraph a few months ago, got stuck, and didn't look at it again until now. It was literally written in fifteen minutes, so I may be re-uploading it if I get some more inspiration. I really liked the idea that I wanted to go with, I just didn't like how it turned out as much. ____ It is longer than the others though. ^^]]

Prompt- Lies

The world was full of bullshit. It was so full of it, in fact, that it might as well be _made_ of it. Matt learned this at the meager age of six; much too young to be thinking the world was a lie, that the world was lying _to_ you. He used to be gullible, vulnerable. At one point, innocent. But Matt grew up much too fast and much too soon.

"I would never give you up, Mail. This isn't my fault." The man called "dad" replied to the young boys cries without an ounce of sympathy in his words. Mail's father had lied to him; told him that he wouldn't give him up, even if he was an annoying little bastard. The father-figure had lied though, and attempted to comfort his son with hallow words as he dropped him off at the 6th street orphanage. The youth had decided to spit on the ground that his father walked in after that. Not that he was ever going to see him again. He felt absolutely betrayed for the first time in his life.

"You're not going to be transferred again, Mail." He had again been shipped to another orphanage. The second in just that past month. Mail didn't dare to settle in, but feebly, did so anyway. Shyly, he began talking in whoever commented on his Gameboy, and made a few… acquaintances. He wouldn't consider that place a home, but he felt comfortable anyway. When, months later, the nurse of the House walked in, telling the boy to pack his belongings, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. Why should he trust anyone ever again? Unfortunately, in his age and state of mind, he let the dark thought go with a few more months passing…

"We'll be together as long as we live. Swear." The two boys locked pinkies childishly and grinned at each other with glints in their eyes. Matt had never made a real-live promise before and he was determined as ever to keep it.

Even though it had been years since the "promise", Matt had believed the spastic blonde would keep his end of the bargain, and when his best friend walked out the doors of the orphanage without so much as a goodbye, the redheads jaw was dropped. He crossed his heart, to swear that never again would trust anyone. It just left resentment and a dull aching. Far too much emotion to go through for the numb boy.

"We're going to get out fine. Stop bitching." Matt had broken the promise to himself. Lied to _himself_. He had crawled back to Mello when the blonde had called and in as little as a year the two had become so much more than friends. The redhead handed his whole self to that psychotic best friend of his and now, they would see the end together. Mello denied every doubt Matt threw at him about "the plan". He _promised _that they would be alright. The gamer had to hide the bitter laugh that dared to escape past his lips as he stepped out of the cherry-red Camero. It was the first time he had wanted to say, "I told you so." As the bullets flew through his skin like a bebe gun through paper, Matt thought heartlessly to himself that he should have realized sooner how full of bullshit the world really was.


	4. Stuck InBetween

[[I'm bbaaccckkkk! My mom lost my laptop for a month! /laughs hysterically/ Who does that! Anyway, this idea was from one of my English papers. You know, when teachers make you write a sentence for one of the words they assign you? Yeah, I think the word was mire. But my teacher must have thought I was crazy because _all_ my sentences were based on Matt and Mello throughout the entire year. X3

Anyway enjoy? Even though I don't like this one so much… Yeah… /hugs laptop/]]

Prompt: Stuck In-Between

Mire stuck to the insides of the duos shoes. Slimy and uncomfortable between their toes. Mud was a disgusting thing; Matt didn't care what the other orphans thought of it.

He knew, even before his friend came knocking on his door, that he would never be able to refuse the blue-eyed, blonde-haired boy. Even if the task was something he would never do on his own. When the begoggled youth stood in the middle of the doorframe, the one called "Mello" clinging to his striped shirt like an old man whose legs were giving out on him, and tearing up because he had lost the only thing he had left of his mom "playing football in the rain" and no one else would go out to help him find it, Matt took matters into his own hands.

The younger would never have agreed to come out of the House after such a tooth-rattling, pouring-buckets type storm to look for a rosary (of all things!) but the tears in his friends eyes forced him to crawl out of his room without complaint leaving his ten year old lips. He was stuck in between pure hatred for the world's elements and loyal love for his poor, angelic friend.


	5. Painful Silence

**Prompt- Painful Silence **

**Mihael opened one cerulean blue eye and glanced up, mid-prayer. Impatient at such a young age he inaudibly questioned to his god, "How am I supposed to have a conversation with you if you don't say anything **_**back**_**?"**

**He opened the other eye and looked up through long, dark lashes (so his head was still bowed respectfully) at the stained glass windows near the alter. He had always loved the peace and quiet of the building and enjoyed going to the church sessions held on Sunday. Mihael didn't understand though. Pastor Laurence had said that when you pray, you're supposed to have a conversation with the Lord. Even at the tender age of four, Mihael knew that it took two people talking; back and forth, to keep up a conversation. But it was silent.**

**If God had commanded prayer, why would He **_**not answer back**_**?**

**Mihael closed his eyes once again, more determined, pouring his heart into getting an answer of some sort.**

_**Why did this happen? **_**he asked, **_**I hate this place and I wanna go home. If it's you will I think I'll be able to handle it but… **_**he stopped to collect his thoughts, took a shaky breath and started again. **_**Why'd they have to take me away from her? I thought You were protecting me. Mama always said that You would protect me. They took me away though.**_** A sleeve wiped across suddenly damp eyes. **

_**Why? **_**Even the voice in his head broke tearfully as his small chin began to quiver. **_**I'm **_**not**_** an orphan. I hate this place; it's not home. Please, God, bring me home.**_

"**Amen." the youth faithfully said aloud. Tilting his blonde head upwards, he saw two nuns bustling about, lighting candles. It was nearly sunset now and the last rays of the evening sky, the last breathes of the day shone through the stained glass. It made a rainbow of colors filter through it's glass barrier. Mihael waited for an answer to his "why's". But none came.**

**It was silent.**

**[[This had an optimistic ending in my notebook! But than I changed it while typing to fit the prompt. If anybody's interested in a more God-happy ending I'd be happy to send you the original ending!]]**


	6. Die A Thousand Deaths

[[I didn't really expect this to come out so… creepily. O.O I mean… yeah. You'll see what I mean. I don't really think Matt thought like that before dying. This (meaning, his attitude) just kind of wrote itself. I had no choice in the matter. /cough/]]

Prompt- Die a Thousand Deaths

Matt considered his death many times. He considered, if it was bound to happen, why _not_ think about it. Masochistically he thought the whole thing was pretty damn cool. It sucked, sure. But why fight the inevitable? Might as well enjoy it to the fullest extent. He didn't understand why Mello would get so mad at him for not being worried. Wasn't it better to be at ease? Wouldn't it make things go smoothly? Matt just didn't understand people most of the time.

Every video game he played after figuring out his expiration date was hilarious. He'd laugh hysterically as he gunned down innocents in Grand Theft Auto. _'Serves them right.' _he'd think maliciously.

Sometimes he'd imagine the small screeching figures on the screen to be Kira or the ones who would be finishing him off in the end. It made his games that much more interesting. His spastic friend would be on his last nerves and screaming was common when it came from Mello. The begoggled gamer really didn't understand where all the tension was coming from.

"You're not the same Mello. You usually save the screaming for when I _touch_ you or something." he'd pull out a smoke and lit it up casually, making it seem more likely Mello was giving himself a hernia, he was so tense.

"Dear God, Matt! I knew you didn't have any self-worth but you're a fuckin' creep. You know that! What the fuck is wrong with you!"

A long drawl from cigarette smoke flew into the already smoggy apartment and Matt responded simply with, "Thanks Mels. Made my life a hell of a lot more interesting." Than he'd laugh again, throwing his head back in hysterics. Mello always assumed the red head was… off… somehow but honestly, his childhood friend couldn't have been scaring him more. And Mello had seen a lot of shit. A lot had changed in four years.

The night of January 26th Matt pumped his fists in the air. "See 'ya on the other side, Mello." He quipped as the engine to his car roared to life. He was going to make it a hell of a time, and he hid his humor as he pulled out the smokescreen from his vest pocket and shot- perfectly- into the crowd of Takada fans. It was like his own real-life video game. _But, _Matt thought wirily in a moment of melancholy, _I don't have 99 more lives in this one. _

He must have expected it to be over soon. It was, nobody would dare say he struggled in life for long. It was just shot after shot after shot, though.

He must have been a bit stunned.

He only had one life left, but these bitches were shooting at him like he had ninety-nine. Considering himself to be dying one-thousand times over, sickly, it made him proud. Not many bitches could say that, could they?

It wasn't so bad. It got pretty numb after a blow to the head. He was just waiting to bleed it out. Couldn't take that long, could it?

Matt experienced his absolute first "Game Over", dying a thousand deaths.


	7. Death

_[[This was originally just written on a loose-leaf piece of paper in one of my school binders. I just started writing it in geoscience and had a certain… fondness for it. It doesn't mention Matt or Mello or Wammy's but that's what was in my mind when I was writing it (because duh, it's me we're talking about.) I was going to make it longer, maybe turn it into a longer one-shot or something. But inspiration failed me and it wanted to stay short, even if I didn't want it to. So here it is. ^^]]_

_Prompt- Death _

_Fleeting moments of childhood was when death wasn't even a plausible thing. It was something you could not hold, could not see, and were not able to predict. It may have been eyebrows crinkled with concern and saline tears sticking to dark eyelashes; yet in the contentment of lazy days and picnics in the field such a thing was seemingly impossible. _

_The strict limitation- that short leash- the sands of one's lifetime was held on didn't seem so impossibly lacking. For a child's life had just begun. No matter how "big" one seemed, they were still at the beginning._


	8. One Thing Is For Certain

[[Hokay, another thing up on ff from something I wrote in a class. This is what we get when I look through my school stuff and decide to share it with you dear people. x3

So, this one's crappily written in my opinion, but it was still sweet and the prompt went so well with it, so I posted it. Taa-daa!

PS. This, written, was one side of a page. It only looks like a small paragraph typed! Dang biggish handwriting. /flails/]]

Prompt- Only One Thing is For Certain

Mello swallowed thickly, staring at the flashing television screen with wide eyes.

"Look." he whispered hoarsely, "Look at what we're going to be."

I glanced up at him to the screen- a special on the Holocaust; dead bodies flailing limply. Naked. Degraded. I looked back to his awe-struck deminior. Without thinking, I dropped my DS with a thump on my lap, and ever-so gently put my hand on top of his clenched-white knuckles.

He glanced at me in horror, as if I had awoken him from a nightmare and he wasn't so sure it was over yet.

"I love you." I said clearly. It would be useless to say a thing like "it'll be okay" or "it's alright" because it wasn't true. And when it's not true, it lends Mello no comfort.

And there was one thing that I knew would _always_ be true.

Mello turned his palm upward so he could interlace his fingers with mine.

"I love you too."


	9. Left Behind

[[This was from a fail role play with EmoBear. AKA, one of my best friends. I liked my start enough to post it and find a prompt for the poor lost baby. (My writing seems like a person when I talk about it. Lol) It's another one that's in first-person. I need to stop this! Dx Oh, I tweaked the end a little to better fit the prompt but that's okay.]]

Prompt- Left Behind

I wonder if he knew I had a life. At Wammy's I had always seemed so dependant on him. But I _was _my own person. I had my own thoughts and independence, right?

… Just because I thought about him a _bit_ didn't mean that I had no life when he's not around. Okay, more than a bit. A lot. _All_ the time.

To tell the truth, he pisses me off. He's selfish, big headed, loud, violent; we're complete opposites! Maybe I was wondering if he thought about my current life because… I always wondered where he was now. God damn, I miss him. The shithead.

Going on with daily life is just painfully boring. (See, I have a life. It's just… a bore.) Play my games, smoke a pack, have "Matt" time. Lord knows that fucking some "girlfriend" wouldn't help me right now. It's better for me to reacquaint myself with my hand every so often than go pick up some ten cent hooker, just for my crazy need of feeling somebody else's presence. I live alone. All by myself in my shit-hole apartment. Getting a pet isn't even an option with my attention span. I'd most likely be playing Halo for days on end and the poor "it" would starve. I wouldn't admit that I felt lonely because if there _was _someone checking up on me everyday or asking me to go out, I'd just avoid them like they were the Black Death.

Unless it was him.

Can't even say his damn alias without the awful memories of that December day running through my head. The day when I was left behind by my only anchor.

But I don't need him, anyway. I have my own life…


	10. Something I Cannot Grasp

[[This is the shortest. :D… Wait, I mean sadface…?]]

Prompt- Something I Cannot Grasp

I never had him.

He was a wisp of smoke that I'd feebly try to hold in both my hands. Like trying to catch moonlight in a jar. Impossible.

No sympathy. No guilt. No regret. No l_ove_.

I never had him.

Nobody ever would.


End file.
